Differences

I think that we all want to make a difference. And sometimes we do make a difference and don't even know it.

Today, I watched one of the members of my 7th grade small group get baptized. And after thanking her parents, she said that she would like to thank her small group leader, Beth.

Wow.

A difference.

But really I should be the one thanking her. For being an incredible 12 year old. For reminding me what simple faith is. For encouraging me to walk with Christ in a more authentic way so that I can be an example.

A guess that making a difference always effects both parties.

I like teaching. Really I do.

And I like high school. I remember the fun stuff that wasn't learning and so I recognize how important that kind of thing is. That is why today I dumped my geometry plans to review sine, cosine and tangents in favor of taking my classes to the auditorium to watch the One Act Play. (Plus, who really wants to try to fight the Homecoming Friday Hype in order to review trig functions?)

But just now one of my trig students came in to critique my teaching. He means well, but I don't think he has a clue as to how badly he hurt my feelings. And it isn't that he was wrong in what he said. On the contrary, he was far too spot on. He accused me of not being personal enough and pushing them too hard. (In turn, I accused him and the class at whole of always misbehaving and not putting forth a valid effort.) And he is right.

I like teaching, but there are some days I hate me the teacher.

I hate being stern. I hate threatening to call home. I hate pleading with students to try. I hate being forced to cut out the fun things of high school because they can't behave during the non-fun parts.

Thank goodness it is Friday afternoon and I don't have to be me the teacher until Monday.

Day 2

Again, high intentions of writing something worth reading. I even started some drafts yesterday that I thought would be pretty good entries.

But one of the boys has a bottle of Nautica Echo cologne in his bag and it broke. My head is pounding. I can barely think past the smell.

Sorry. It will have to wait until tomorrow.

Since it turns out that only my sisters and momma are reading this, you might find it interesting to know that I got flowers sent to work yesterday.

Day 1

I have been thinking that I needed to write more, but honestly I don't know where to find the time. And I feel pressured to write something of value. I am fully aware that you don't want to know what I had for breakfast. And while me slicing off my finger trying to pit an avacado is mildly funny, it does not a good post make.

Still, I read about a challenge to post at least once a day, everyday in November. And I am always up for a good challenge.

As lame as it is, this counts for today. Stay tuned for updates.

I would ask this- drop me a comment so that I know who is reading. Since I haven't written in a really long time, I don't know who is randomly checking. It would be nice to know.

Class

Lest I actually have a month of vacation solely devoted to nothing but laying by the pool, strongly encouraged by my departement chair and my new principal, I enrolled in the gifted endorsement course offered by Cobb County.

What was I thinking??????

I like the material (after all, I spent all of my school years in gifted classes) and I think there are a lot of ideas being presented that will make me a better teacher all around. Not to mention the promise of actually getting to teach the advanced courses. (I recently found out that this year I am going to get to teach Analysis- the gifted Pre-Cal course. I am excited and terrified all at the same time.)

But the work required for this class has been overwhelming. It only lasts for 8 days- all of last week and Mon, Tues., Wed. of this next week. Class is from 8:30-3:15 everyday with a 30 minute break for lunch. But then I come home (a new home for me, by the way, but that will have to wait for a different blog when I am not feeling so overwhelemed), and I have to read between 30 and 50 pages of scholary journals. I love to read, but scholarly journals make me want to cut my own eyes out with a grapfruit spoon so that I will have a reason to never have to read them again. And on top of that we have to write 6 annotated bibilographies. I am on the 4th and so far have written 10 pages worte of work. I swore after grad school that I would never to another annotated bibilography. I can't believe that I let these sneak up on me.

After this class ends, I have to take another one that meets twice a month during the school year and follow that with another week and a half course next summer. Finally I will be gifeted endorsed.

But the question I am thinking about now, as I procrastinate these papers, is does this mean that I intend to stay in education longer then the 4 years I said I was in it for?

Jet Lag

I once heard it said concerning jet lag that it takes 1 day to recover for each hour of the time difference. 1 day down out of 12.

Sunday, after getting home around midnight, I was wide awake until 3AM and then woke up at 8. I think that my body assumed that I was just laying down for a long afternoon nap.

Last night, my goal was to stay awake until 10 PM. I managed to stay out of bed that long by watching the first episode of LOST (I picked up both seasons in my DVD run so that I could catch up on the hype). After that I went to bed and thought that I would try to read for a while. After I literally dopped my book twice, I decided that I just couldn't do it.

As I drifted off, I thought to myslef that I would surly sleep through the night becasue I was so incredibily tired. But no. 2 AM wide awake.

I managed to go back to sleep about 3:30, but only to wake up every 45 minutes or so. I finally got up at 6.

I am pretty sure that you didn't want to know so much detail about my sleeping patterens, but it may do you good to understand why I am no fun at night. Give me a week.


Happy 4th.

More Numbers

10:38 AM Wednesday: Time and day here
10:38 PM Tuesday: Time and day there

____Monday afternoon in numbers____

2: friends I met

4: approximate distance in miles into town where we needed to go

1.75: US dollar equivalent of amount it would have cost to take a taxi

12: approximate minutes to get to where we needed to go in a taxi

15: minutes if we had the slowest taxi in the country (and there aren''t many slow ones)

100: percent of the time that students here perfer taking a bus over taking a taxi

15: minutes we spend looking at the bus board determining how to get where we needed to go by bus

1: calls to the bus/transportation dispatch place to find out which busses we should take

38 & 79: the two bus numbers that got us close to where we needed to go

3/4: approximate distance in miles that we had to walk after getting off the bus to get to where we were going

75: minutes it took to get to where we were going

$0.75: dollare equivalent of whet it costs all three of us to ride the two buses

2: hours we spent in town

1: miles we walked to what we thought would be the correct bus stop to begin trip home

25: minutes we waited for the 79 bus to come

0.5: miles we walked to a different bus stop

50: number of bus that we would take in order to meet up with...

336: bus that would bring us back to campus

15: minutes we waited for 50 bus

7:00: time 60 bus stop running

7:20: time when we realized that we missed 50 bus

97, 001, 41: series of buses that we then decided to take

10,000: taxis that passed us during this time and could have taken us home quickly

3/4: miles we walked after getting off the 97 only to realize that it didn't match up with the 001 bus where they thought it would

15: minutes spent waiting on a 336 bus at the new stop

0.1: miles we traveled on the 336 bus before it died in a busy intersection.

5: minuutes the driver spend looking at the engine (you can access it from inside the bus) before asking everyone to get off and push. One of my friends said that he only meant for the boys to get off and push

2: number of boys on the bus

3: times the driver repeated his request before people got off and started to push the bus (I didn't but one of my friends did.) The driver was able to jump start the bus.

135: minutes to get back to campus by bus

$1.75: dollar equivalent of what we saved by taking the bus instead of a taxi

3: extra hours it took for us to travel by bus instead of taxi

87: times I almost told my friends that their idea about taking bus was stupid but I refrained becasue they have this whold saving face concept.


____Other numbers_____

3: square footage of the bottom of our shower

5'9'': approximate height of shower head

2: times I have shaved because it is impossible to do anything other than stand perfectly upright in the shower and besides I can claim to be culturally relavent

3: times I will end up having done laundry

6: hours it takes laundry to dry on an overcast day.

2: hours to dry if it is sunny and there is room on the outside line

5: days until we come home

Have a good rest of the week. I will see you soon.

Last week

So on Thursday when we went to get a simple hair wash, the girls talked me into getting a hair cut as well. I should have listened to my inner voice that was yelling "NOOOOOOOO!"

And so now I have a hair cut that I hate. If for the rest of the summer I only wear it in a ponytail, you will understand why. Be nice. Even my friends that I made here will say, "It looks, well... okay."

And on top of the bad hair cut is the monster zit I got on my lip last week. My fireds would point and say "Oh, what is that?" They, of course have perfect procelin skin. We almost didn't go to eat Hot pot on Friday becasue they think that the spice is bad for your skin. I kept assuring them that it would be okay & that the disease on my face would go away whether I ate hot pot or not.

So we went to eat Hot Pot and it was really good. We went to a place where you picked your own meal on skewers and then out it in the bolining pepper soup to cook. After it was cooked you then put the food in a dish of oil to cool down both in heat and in spice. (I honestly think that if anything was bad for their skin, it is the cup of oil bit.) My friends ate weird stuff like Chicken feet and what not. I stuck to mostly vegetables because they were recognizable. I did try one stick of imitation crab b/c it was one of the girl's favorites. And it tasted just like nasty imitation crab. I ate lots of potatoes and what I thought were sweet potatoes but turned out to be pumpkin. My stomach only complained breifly and even it calmed down after I drank 3 yogurts.

On Saturday all of the Americans went to KTV. Chinese Kareokee (sp?). Really that is all I need to say. There were only a limited number of songs in English (including of course celine dion's "My Heart will go on.") and most were old. Sara, sadly they did not have any Christmas carols or even any dixie chicks.

We will be here until Thursday and then begin the trek home. This time next week I will be sleeping of some serious jet lag.

Hey momma- my knee is actually feeling much better. Do you think I should cancel the doctor's appointment or wait to see how it is doing after climbing on the Great Wall and sitting on a plane for 14 hours? I will call you this week.

Week 3

I can't believe that it looks like I am only going to be able to write one blog a week. What an utter dissapointment. Last year I was so good about writing. Oh well.

Things have been much improved since the bus accident last week. it turns out that one of my American friends was close by and saw the child awake with only minor injuries.

Let's see if I can catch you up on my week.

Friday we went to what was being described as a farm. We made bets as to who would catch the bird flu or some other non-curable disease from being in thr rural area. It turned out to be a place maybe 5 minutes away and more of like a farm-reenactment (think colonial williamsburg, but smelly and farm like and in an Asain country). We had tea and learned to play Majohng. Then we got to help make our lunch. It was hot.

Saturday, I wento to the tailors to pick up some things and even though I swore that I was going to not have a lot made this year, I put in another order for a skirt, 3 pairs of dress pants, and a dress all from a JCrew catalog. They will be ready on Monday. and it will cost all of about $40. Nice.

Sunday was a lazy day.

Monday. Class. And then ping-pong. And more ping-pong. I don't think that I have played ping pong since Calico peed on our ping pong table and warpped it. Even then I wasn't very good. When it comes to me verses a chinese person, there is simply no hope for me. But I am getting better because I have played so much this month. I have also been suckered into playing basketball, but I am not improving there.

Tuesday. I was sick and I stayed in bed all morning. It is mostly a sinus thing and I think that I am about to kick it. And I think that it has something to do with the beautiful irises that my roommate received from some of the guys she is traveling with. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I think they were making me sick. Especially in light of the fact that she feels she has to take her bananna peels down the hall to throw them away. And she has been the source of much entertainment since she has started talking in her sleep in Chinese. It's great.

Wednesday. Same old thing. Class. More ping pong.

Today. This morning I had my exam. It was okay but not great. We all had to wait in a holding room where we were suppose to study a few more minutes. We had to draw numbers and one at a time go to take our exam. I got number 12 out of 12 and so I had to wait for about an hour and a half. The first thing I had to do was read some words from a card. They were written in pinyin (pheonetically) and it was just to check my pronounciation. And then they held up flashcards with characters and I was suppose to give the word. I think that I got 5 out of 6. And then the simple questions. "What are you studying?" "What is this?" (A magazine but I forgot the word for it). "Whose magazine is this?" (I don't know, maybe his?) And finally the role play were I had to pretend that I was going to the market to buy some fruit. I did really well on the role play bit. I think that tonight we are going to go back to the hair washing place and pay someone the equivalent of $2.50 to wash (and massage) and dry our hair.

It has been raining again all day long. It is either sunny and incredibly hot. Or cloudy and muggy and hot. Or raining and miserable. A lot of the walking surfaces are marble and so I have more than once almost fallen. (I did fall once yesterday but that was inside on the stairs and had nothing to do with slick surface, just my clumsiness.)

Abd on a final note, I can count 30 bug bites on my arms and legs. And I promise that is no exaggeration. I have never been eaten alive like I have the past 3 weeks.

We will be headed to Beijing next week and then home on the 2nd. My how a month flies.
I will try to write at least once more.

Bus

This evening I was on a bus that hit a little boy who lookd to be about 4 years old.

The bus was really crowded like every bus in this country. I was standing in the aisle near the front because if I can see where we are going it makes me less nervous to be alone on a bus in a country where I understand very little of the language.

We weren't going very fast becasue we had pulled away from a stop. We were on a very crowded and narrow street where there are many vendors and students.

I didn't see the little boy until after we had completely stopped and people rushed out into the street to lift him out from under the front of the bus. There was just a lot of screaming and everyone fell forwards like dominoes when the driver slammed on the brakes. We all fell to the ground. I have minor bruises across my shins where I landed on the raised part of the bus that covers the engine. My fall was broken by the grandmother next to me and her bruises are worse.

But know of that is significant in light of the anguish of the mother, child and bus driver. The little boy was not moving as she carried him away in her arms to get help. But there was also no blood and I am hoping that is a good sign.

I didn't know what to do and so I just followed the lead of everyone else on the bus; I got off and walked the rest of the way to my stop where I was meeting a friend for dinner.

When I got on the bus to come home, we passes the scene of the accident and the bus was still there waiting (I assume) on an investigation. The driver was sitting in one of the seats and there was another driver with him. He looked like he had been crying.

It is truly one of the scariest and most sad things that I have experienced here.


Sorry for the lack of posts. Internet access is really hard this year.

Some Numbers for you

1: The number of days that the sun has been out since we got here. Today is that day.

98: the percent humidity everyday

407: my room number

59: number of stairs to get to the 4th floor

2: the number of cokes I have had in the past 6 days. Coke light is still not popular over here and is still really hard to find.

1.12: the amount in US dollars that my lunch cost

1: the number of times that I have eaten a western meal. It was at McDonald's.

2: the amount in US dollars that my McDonalds meal cost.

37: the number of times I have thought that it would be nice to go to Chick-fil-A or Moes for dinner.

2: the number of times I almost threw up at dinner last night.

6: the number of times I had to chew in order to swallow the nasty duck egg that made me want to throw up at dinner last night.

2: The number of takes it took to get our voice recording correct today.

So, out of those numbers, probably just the last two need more explanation.

Last night the girls and I went to eat with some friends and they said that they were going to treat us to traditional food. (I am sure that the words that they used was actually "some very famours food." Here is what was on the menu:
baotzi- these steamed dumpling type things that aren't too bad. It is a big dough ball with something in the middle. A surprise if you will. meat or veggies or seseme filling. Supposdly, Marco Polo had them and when he went home from his travels he couldn't figure out how to reproduce them and he ended up with pizza. Strangely, they don't taste anything like pizza. At all. Not in the least bit. hmm. pizza would be good.
the rice balls wrapped in bamboo leaves- I don't remember the techinical name. I had these last year and liked them. They are also very famours. you unwrap the bamboo and inside there is a sticky sticky rice ball with again another surprise in the middle. Last year, I had meat ones and fruit ones. They were good. Last night it was some whit substance. I asked my friends and they shared that it was "meat fat." Yup. One big glob of melted fat. I know that my cousin Robbie would love this one.
gelitin soup- cold. sweet. weird in texture.
some sort of wonton soup- good but extremely spicy. I drank a yogurt after dinner to hopefully head off any indigestion.
And then the eggs-
There were two different eggs, both prepared differently and cut into about 8 slices. One was perserved in salt and I think that it may have been what they can the humdred year egg. I don't think that it was every cooked, I think that the salt just cooks it. You don't eat the white part, only the yoke and it tasted like sand.
The other egg....I am not sure that I can write this without gagging.
I always use to say that I could be on fear factor and do the eating challenges. And when Rebecca and I talk about the Amazing Race, I am always the one to do the eating things. I am not so sure after last night.
They said that it was just duck egg, and I am not sure how it was prepared. they also said that it is okay to leave this kind of egg out for 6 months.
The yoke was the same color but the white part was translucent yellowish orange and had a consistancy of harden jello. When you think that it is going to be an egg, there is just no preperation for what I put in my mouth. You should all have the same joy.


And then the recording. So, there is a high school English teacher in the city that needed some English voices recorded for her classes. From what I understand, it is for an exam that her students will have to take. She needed us to do the part that the students will listen to and then answer questions. A guy friend and I went with her to a recording room today and read the very cheesy script. There were 10 texts total. This was text 2:

Female: I would like for you to go shopping with me on Sunday.
Male: Why do you need me to go?
Female: It is very difficult to buy shoes for you without your feet being present.

We got paid 200 kuai each to do it (about $25 USD). But to me the best part is that all over this part of the country, there will be high school kids learning English with a Southern accent. I will be very very FAMOURS.

That's it for now.
Zai Jian

Crazy

Well, classes are going well. It is harder to learn when things are going so fast, but I think that I will probably learn a lot. Everything is in characters which is completely different for me.

It is really weird for the other students to defer to me.

Yesterday we went to eat and I was trying to order dumplings for us to eat. I thought that I was ordering 20 for the table, but it turns out that I ordered 20 for each of us. And these things were spicy. I managed to eat about 12 of them, but 2 of my friends could only eat like 5. We left a ton on the table and I am sure that the owners/waitress were just munbling- stupid Americans.

It has been raining a lot here and I haven't actually seen the sun since we were on the plane before landing in Beijing.

What else?

Right now, I don't think that there are any other super funny stories- I am still fighting jet lag pretty bad (today I actually managed to stay asleep unil 6 AM) and I think that it is affecting my ability to be funny.

In a closing note, I read the first card that momma sent with me, and it made me cry. Wendy, I am sorry to say that I think she has you beat.

I am sure that something good will happen soon.

Here we go again

I hope that you are ready for another fun summer of entertaining (and poorly spelled since I don't know what "spell check" looks like in Chinese) blogs.

We arrived after a good 24-26 (I lost count) hours of travel. My friends, Xanax is a glorious creation. I was able to sleep a lot on the long flight that went directly over the North Pole. The last flight I tried to do unmedicated and it was the bumpiest we had.

Our rooms are like really small hotel or dorm rooms with really hard beds. Of course, I think that we are paying about 4 bucks a day, so I can't really complain.

I don't have any good stories yet. I am still really tired.

But don't worry, tomorrow I start classes and I am sure that after I sit through just 1 intermediacte level class, I will have made a fool of myself and have some stories to share.

By the way, with the whole missing out thing, I am really just a baby. I am doing much better.

Off to the other side of the World

While I was drying my hair yesterday morning, I suddenly realized that I only had two more nights to sleep in my bed. That is how I count down days until big events.

What I didn’t account for was that if I went to bed right this second, I would get less than 3 hours of sleep. And I am obviously not going to bed right this second.

If I am completely honest with you, my anonymous blog readers, I would have to admit that it has been a little hard to get myself geared up for this trip.

Not too long along, Rebecca observed that she believes I don’t like change. To a degree, she is probably right, but I think that my issue goes deeper than that. In fact, I think that it is one of my driving forces. The simple fact of the matter is that I do not like the idea of missing out on something.

And it is this little fact that explains so much about me.

It explains why, as a child, I was always the last one to order my ice cream at Baskin Robbins. With 31 flavors, I was sure to miss out if I decided on one.

It explains why I am a constant over-achiever and run myself ragged trying to do too much. If I can just be involved in everything, then I am not missing out on any of it.

It explains why I will usually wait until the last minute to make plans. Wendy and I use to accuse the Mike and Charlie of waiting for a better offer before settling on plans with us, but I am just as guilty.

It explains why I avoid conflict like the plague. Everyone has to be happy with me so that I am not missing out on the inside jokes or fun times.

And it explains why I am not as excited about this trip as I feel I should be. This year, my friends and family and their plans sound like they offer a better option than studying abroad for a month.

I guess that sometimes you just have to miss out.


The next time you hear from me, I will be 12 hours ahead.

A Joy I Will Never Know

I just watched a 14 year old boy from South Bend Indiana spell "autochthonous" to win the 2004 national spelling bee.

I had to use the DVR on the TV to go back and find out how to spell Indiana.

Hiatus

Here's the thing about writing blogs- people read them. And it isn't the random people that might stumble across my writings that gets me. No, it's the fact that People I Know read my blog.

Right now I am trying to work through some things that I don't find very entertaining and which I don't particular want everyone to know all about.

So, I am going to concentrate on my actual journal for a while. Pen and paper.

I don't know how long this will last, but I promise I will return to the world of blogging before heading back to East Asia. After all, we know that EA provides some good entertainment.

You smell

I am sick again. It came on really pretty quickly. I have lot of congestion, but no sore throat. Really, this time, my illness has been characterized by extreme fatigue. It’s not the kind of fatigue that made my sleep a sound sleep at night. Rather, it is fatigue that makes the thought of having to get up and take a shower seem impossible. It is a fatigue that makes me think that the pure effort of moving my jaws enough to chew makes eating not worth it. I associate this kind of fatigue with one thing- mono.

When I went to the doctor today, I was convinced that she was going to do blood work and confirm the presence of mono.

Almost as soon as she walked into the room, the doctor said, “You have strep throat.”

I was floored. Really, I’ve not had a sore throat and my fever has been really low. And I was convinced that I had mono.

She went on to explain that strep has a smell to it and that she smelled it. It’s not something you really want to hear when you are sick. “On top of feeling like crap, and looking like crap, you actually have an odor about you that isn’t so pleasant.”

She took a strep culture and gave me an antibiotic with the following reasoning, “If the culture comes back positive for strep, then you will have been on antibiotics for a couple of days. If it isn’t strep then it is a virus and you will just have to wait it out anyways.” More of what you really don’t want to hear.

The good news is that I have started the antibiotic and have already started to feel better. I guess her nose was right.

Thank goodness. I hate mono.

Remember, it turns back to a pumpkin at midnight.

If you go to the nail saloon on any Saturday morning this time of year, you will know that it is a special time of year. That’s right, it’s prom time.

I went to both my junior and senior prom. Michael wanted to go to his junior prom (I was a sophomore), but instead we went out of town with our youth group. I think that he was a little bitter. But we went the next year and did the whole after prom party thing at the bowling ally. I think that I had a curfew of midnight.

My senior year, I went with Brian. I liked Brian, but I am pretty confident that he wasn’t interested in me (or in anyone for that matter) and just agreed to go because he felt like he needed to go. I remember a not so fun dinner and then pretty much nothing of the prom itself. After that one, our group went to Patrick’s house and hung out for a while. He and his date weren’t really hitting it off. I think that night I had permission to stay out until 1, but Brian’s curfew was earlier.

Now that I am teaching in a high school, I have the opportunity to go to prom every year. For the past two years, I have come up with other things to do on prom night and I haven’t chaperoned. But this year, it looks like I am going. My math teacher friends are all going to go, and so I figure I should as well.

Obviously, some things are going to be different in this prom experience. I am not buying a new dress. I am not going out to eat a fancy dinner before hand. I probably won’t even go get a pedicure. And, sadly, it looks like I will be going alone. Unless of course you know someone who would like to go to prom on May 6th…

I remember you

You are not the you I remember.

I remember the you that fed us melted cheese. Not just the grocery store brand, but the good kind of cheese in the foil wrapper. And it was always accompanied with a glass of orange juice. To this day, a cold glass of orange juice transports me to my 7 year old self with hair down my back, running around on the linoleum floor.

The you now can’t go to the kitchen on her own. She has to be helped to get up and helped to walk to the kitchen. She certainly isn’t going to the grocery store and buying the good cheese in the foil wrapper.

The you I remember loved to eat family meals. She always had something in the kitchen for everyone to sit down and eat.

Now you hardly eat two meals a day.

I remember the you that loved birthdays. You would always bring presents for all of the grandkids no matter whose birthday it was. You didn’t want any of us to feel left out and I also think that you wanted us to love birthdays as much as you.

This you forgot that my birthday was three weeks ago. This you thought I was born in May.

My memory of you still drives around in the Purple-People-Eater Cadillac. She still talks of taking vacations to the beach or the mountains in the RV.

The you of now can’t drive. And I am not sure that the you now will ever see the ocean again. Or the mountains.

I remember the you that had a memory for all things. That you could name every stop you made during a family vacation in the 60’s and what every member of the family ate at every stop.

The you I see now is losing the ability to remember. And memories are being replaced by stories that you have dreamed up, stories so bizarre that they must have slipped from your dreams and into your reality.

The you I remember was strong. She watched one amazing husband be eaten away by cancer, doing everything she could to stop or slow the progress. She was strong enough to love again only to watch another husband die slowly. The you I remember was full of life.

This you is so very frail. Your skin is covered in bruises and in some ways your spirit seems weaker.

The you I remember had an opinion on just about everything. Honestly, the you I remember could be a little much at times.

You now have trouble speaking, period. Whether speaking is just too hard, or it is too hard to express you opinions, this you is almost mute compared to the you I remember.

I remember the you that once told me that our priorities should be family, God, job, in that order. I remember how that you would get upset when people would talk about how great heaven will be. You wanted to have lost loved ones back here with you, never mind how wonderful the ever after might be.

But I remember when you changed your mind. When death ceased to be scary and your priorities reordered themselves.

And I wonder what this you I see now thinks. Is she scared? Does she understand?

And I miss the you I remember.

But, as much as I miss the you I remember, I am still thankful for this new you.

You have shown me a new side of my parents; you have shown me how patient and kind they are. This you has made me more grateful for each encounter I have with you and more grateful for my family as a whole.

I love you. Both yous.

34 and counting

Spring is my favorite time of year. Without a doubt. And I have some very rational reasons behind that statement.

Some celebrate the New Year by making resolutions. Not I. January and February are the roughest months for me. I don’t need to add to the blues by piling on goals that I will drop in mid-February. Instead, the New Year is when I buckle in and concede to eating junk food because it makes me happy. Let’s face it, when I am going to and coming from work in the dark, anything that makes me happy (even if it comes coupled with guilt) is worth it.

So reason number one is that spring is the time when I start to believe that I can be a better person. Last spring, I started running for the first time in my life and eating better. It was in the spring (again, only last year) that I lost a good 35 pounds. And it is now spring that I am determined to lose the rest.

And spring is birthday season. The sister-who-asked-not-to-be-mentioned-in-a-post-tonight and I have birthdays three weeks apart to the day. When we were younger, we shared parties. One year it would be a My Little Pony theme, and the next Chuckie Cheese. It starts with her birthday and wraps up with mine. Since my family has not yet gotten together to celebrate mine this year, it is an extended birthday. I’m serious. Until my family sings and brings the cake, my birthday is still in effect (though it was really a week ago today).

Reason Three: In spring my favorite flower, the daffodil, covers front yards. They drive my sinuses crazy, but I still love them. I once did a photographic essay on daffodils and it won a prize.

Spring is a time of new love. I associate all of my past good relationships with spring beginnings. The guys I started dating in the fall were doomed even before the first date. More recently, spring seems to be the time for new crushes.

But if you took away all of those things, I would still love spring. Because the number one reason I love spring is that the countdown can begin. That’s right guys and girls, there are only 34 more school days until summer break. Or even better, only 6 more Mondays. Who wouldn’t love that?

Gorwing Up

Maybe six weeks ago I found out that my sister is dating her old high school boyfriend. It was a little of a blow because they had been going out about a month and she hadn't told me. And it was a little bit of a shocker, but not necessarily in a bad way.

I like the guy. I have always liked him, except for those times that he made Rebecca cry. Then I wanted to cause a slow and painful death, but isn't that what every big sister would feel? In ways it is easier for me that she is going out with him. Of all her boyfriends, he has spent the most time hanging out with my family and so it makes it easier for me to joke around with him. It isn't as awkward as other boyfriends being here. If he does something to annoy me, I feel free to tell him so without the guilt of thinking that I have to be nice.

One of the cool things about living with your sibling is that you just kind of grow into it. Though we have both grown up, I don't notice the changes that have occurred. For instance, today Josh remarked that Rebecca is moodier now than she was in the old days; since I grew into the moodiness, I just assume that she has always been moody.

But I haven’t been around Josh in over 8 years. I notice the changes in him. Maybe it isn’t so much change, as it is things I just never knew. Most important is the fact that he is a cleaner. Apparently, he doesn’t like to be in messy environments. This is good news for me. When I got home yesterday and went upstairs, I was surprised to see that the carpet (including my room) had been vacuumed. And vacuumed so that the lines are in the carpet. I don’t have a clue as to how you get the lines to stay in the carpet.

There are times when I am a bit envious of my sister’s ability to meet guys and always be in a relationship. But this time, my envy is minimal. Let’s face it, she got a boyfriend and I got a maid. Not a bad deal.

M-I-Crooked Letter-Crooked Letter-I...

I have been just too busy to write lately and for that I apologize. There have been funny things to write about and I simply haven’t had time to get them out onto paper.

I didn’t even write about the staff development we had a while back in which we were forced to suffer through a Dolly Pardon, Minnie Pearl (from Hee Haw), and Lucille Ball impersonation. I am not kidding in the slightest. It was two and a half hours of pure torture. I am sorry that I can’t give you the details anymore; thankfully, it is starting to feel like a bad nightmare that I am forgetting.

I just returned yesterday from leading my first short term mission trip. It was an amazing experience, but I have to admit that I was a little bit scared to be leading. When I agreed to lead the team, it was with the understanding that I would have a co-leader. And then she wasn’t able to go.

When she was teaching us to swim, momma pretty much just threw us into the pool; I felt that leading this trip was a very similar experience. But everything went well. No wrecks in the rented vans. No hospital visits. No drama queen tears shed. All in all, I think that it was a success. I think that we did a lot of good and that we all learned a lot. All 48 of us were changed in some way.

It was good to go back to Pass Christian. An amazing amount of work has been done since Christmas, but there is still an incredible amount to be done. On Monday, we cleaned out a house that had not been touched since the storm; the drawers in the bedroom still had water pooled in them. The house belongs to Roy and Bonnie Hogan. They are a really sweet and truly Southern couple who will celebrate their 56 anniversary in August. The house was their dream home. And in spite of the destruction of the home they loved so much, they were joyful, welcoming, and hopeful. They treated each other as newlyweds; isn’t that the kind of marriage that everyone hopes to have?

My team was amazing. From so many different walks of life, I was a little concerned that they wouldn’t all get along. I couldn’t have been more wrong (who am I to question the Sovereignty of God?). They cared for each other and shared with each other. And they are just great people. My circle of friends grew on this trip.

Lest this post become an overly serious one, I will leave you with one of the funnier moments on the trip. Those of you who know me are aware that I HATE HATE HATE bananas. I think that they are of the devil. Monday was my birthday. It was our first day in Pass Christian and at lunch I told some of my team members about my disdain for bananas. After our evening meeting the team sang “Happy Birthday” and they had a cake and ice cream. The cake that they bought (some sort of yummy chocolate cake) got lost in a cooler. But it just so happened that a group from Memphis had sent down some cakes for the volunteers and there was a layer cake in the mix. People were talking about how great it was that God provided a cake. And then I took a bite. Yep, banana. I almost lost my dinner. Happy Birthday to me.

Don't Understand

Last night we ate at Cracker Barrel. And it was decided that if we had to choose one place to eat at for the rest of our lives, then we would all choose Cracker Barrell. It's the variety and the fact that you can get breakfast all day.

The talk turned to boys, as it so often does when it is only girls at the table. And this is what I don't understand: I have amazing friends. Great Women. Seriously Funny. Generous. Dependable. Really Smart. Beautiful. And all single. What's with that?

In a way, it is easy to understand my single life. It is always easy to be critical of yourself and there are always things that I think need to improve. But then I look around at the multitude of great single women I know and I think that there is something else going on.

It is true that each of us in a little picky in her own way, but at the same time none of us are turning down dates. I don't believe that I have ever said no to a first date. (Well, except for the times when one of my students wants to set me up with someone. That is just too weird.) One of my friends instituted a "Take One for the Team" policy. The idea is that you are not allowed to turn down any date. Even if you might not be interested, you have friends, many of them, and this guy might be perfect for one of them. Even with the policy in full effect, we all remain dateless.
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Editorial Note: I started this post and wrote everything above on 10/24/05. And then I didn't have time to finish so I just saved it as a draft. Several time in the last 4 months this topic has come up. Again tonight. Except this time there was a boy at the table and we didn't talk about it in real depth, because who wants to come off looking that desperate? ____________________

I've tried the whole online thing and I am convinced that it is not for me. My experience has left me with the opinion that Neil Clark Warren is of the devil and his 29 dimensions of compatibility is a load of crap. Or maybe they aren't a load of crap, but rather a tool to get more of your money. It seems that you always get matched with people that are not in the least bit "compatible" (and the use of quotation marks is appropriate in this case) until your subscription is about to run out. Then they will actually match you with someone who seems decent and this will suck you in to paying for another 3 months just in case he is the one. Of course you eventually end up going out with the guy who claimed that he is 5'6" and turns out to be 5'4". No more online stuff for me.

Today at my weekly Chinese lessons, my teacher offered to set me up with some men. I don't want to be accused of being picky, but seriously, am I suppose to say yes to that offer?

I don't know what the answer is. I guess I will just continue to wait and trust. And have conversations with me friends about the reasons we are all single.

Why the Mental Block?

I have to admit that I would consider myself a pretty intelligent person. Okay, honestly, I think that I am quite smart. And not just in book sense, but in common sense and in being able to reason things out.

However, there are two areas/subjects/things that I am afraid will always be a mental block for me.

The first is my ability to spell. I think that there has been a small improvement over the years, but in truth that may be attributed to the proliferation of computers and spell checker. Rare is the day that I can type and entire email and have it pass the spell check the first time through. More often, I misspell words to such a degree that the spell check doesn't even recognize it and offer up suggestions. I have to take a second guess.

The other area of my life where I just never seem to be able to learn is in medication. For the life of me, I NEVER know what I should take to make myself feel better. Decongestant? Antihistamine? Both? Something else entirely? And what is really frustrating is that self-medicating should be an innate ability. I come from a family of pharmacists. My grandfather is a pharmacist. Momma is. My aunt and uncle both are. One cousin is in pharmacy school. Her brother is a doctor. And my youngest sister is a lab technologist who has taken enough science classes that she could probably make medicine. And then I can't even go to the drugstore and match my symptoms to those listed on a box. Seriously. I might as well be reading the boxes in Chinese. I might even fare better. Just now, I spent 20 minutes walking up and down the medicine aisle of Kroger trying to remember what momma told me yesterday about what I should take to kill this rotten cold I have developed.

I think that she said the 12 hour Tavist D would be best for the day and Benedryl at night. But the Tavist was 20 bucks and the other thing about coming from a family of pharmacist is knowing that I could probably get it cheaper (or free) at home. Surely, I have something here that isn't that far past the expiration date. So I left without medicine. Only chicken and stars soup, apple juice, and two more boxes of Kleenex.

Oh I feel crappy.

Just a few white flakes

Here’s the thing about teaching- you never mature past age 7 when it comes to snow. So, maybe there are those odd balls out there that think extremely rationally and say they don’t want a snow day because it means that there would be one added onto the end of the year. I am not one of those.

I wanted snow last night. I wanted it so much so that I stayed up far too late watching Grey’s Anatomy with the hope that I might be able to sleep in. And this morning when my alarm went off, I laid in bed and waited for the news to cycle back around. I needed to get up because I had already hit the snooze button twice and was running kind of late. But until the morning radio person confirmed no school closings, I was able to lay there and hope with my last bit of hope that outside my warm bed, there was a light blanket of snow or maybe even just icy road conditions. And then my hope was shattered with those 3 words: “No school closings.”

I think that when I begin to count down to summer break, people assume that I hate my job. Really that couldn’t be much further from the truth. I like my job. Some days I even love it. And I won’t be one of those people who complain about teaching being so much harder than the average job. I know better than that. All I ask is that you recognize that dealing with 30+ teenagers in 90-minute blocks throughout the day is no cake-walk. And so I will continue to gloat about the 2 month summer vacation.

And the next time, there is a possibility of snow, I will probably stay up too late and hope with all my might for my county to close school.

Sorry. I think that you may have some of my marinara sauce on your cheek.

As I become older, I am more aware of the power of words. Especially the ones used as descriptors. We posed the task to our middle school small group to narrow in on the word they would want their friends to use in describing them. The idea was that they should have in mind the type of person that they want to become- that sort of stuff doesn’t just happen.

And so I though of the descriptive word that scarred me when I was a teenager. How could he have known that such a harmless comment would haunt me? It was so innocent. But his words had power of which he was unaware.

“Susan P. has got to be the nicest person ever. Really, she is the nicest person I have ever met.”

It is true that Susan P. is (was? I haven’t seen her in over 10 years and so maybe she has become cynical and bitter. Somehow I doubt it.) an extremely nice person. But I wanted to be the nicest person that he ever met. And that day I determined that I would, at some point in my future, be the nicest person that someone has ever known. Bot just nice. The Nicest.

It is true that thinking such thoughts sort of negate the compliment. I don’t think that you can technically be the nicest if you are trying. I think that it has to be natural. And so I try to forget that promise I made to myself.

Since then, my friends and I have discussed the word that we think others must use in describing us. Mine word is “easy, but not in the loose meaning of the word.” I have to admit that it is pretty right on. I am easy.

But not in the loose sense of being easy.

That day in our small group, I told the girls that I wanted to be known as generous. Generous with my time, my money, and my self.

And then a couple of weeks ago, while having a very nice dinner with a friend, he admitted that the word he used in describing me to his mom was “intimidating.” Could that be further from being nicest? And he meant it in such a nice way.

Friday, a different friend used the following descriptor: “Of higher moral fiber.” Really?

In both cases, I almost spit my food across the table in disbelief.

Hmm. It looks like I have a ways to go. Nicest. One Day. Or, I’ll settle for generous.